


Come To Me

by blowmeharry, captainhoran



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Bondage, Breathplay, Crossdressing, Hand Kink, Humiliation, Leather Kink, Lipstick, M/M, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Overstimulation, Pain, Reality, Rimming, Rough Sex, Size Difference, Smut, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-03
Updated: 2013-02-03
Packaged: 2017-11-28 00:36:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/668274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blowmeharry/pseuds/blowmeharry, https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainhoran/pseuds/captainhoran
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An unwritten competition is always set between Louis and Harry. Who will give in first? This time Harry's feeling adventurous and domineering. Who is the real winner here?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Come To Me

“Come to me,” Harry says with sincerity, his eyes dark. He drops the black bag to the ground, pulling off his thick-wooled sweater. Despite the freezing temperatures outside, warmth is catching up to him.  
  
“No, you come to me,” Louis challenges, staying where he was sat.  
  
“No, you,” Harry argues, but he’s already making his way to him.  
  
“I win, as always,” Louis beams up at him, tugging at his waist.  
  
“I wouldn’t say that.” Harry smirks, squirming under his touch.  
  
“Yeah? What makes you so sure?” Louis forces him down onto his back, rolling over to straddle him. He grabs his wrists and pins them above his head. “I seem pretty victorious here.”  
  
Harry gulps, taking in the dark blue orbs piercing into his. “Maybe you just got lucky.”  
  
“I’ll say.”  
  
Harry, pressing his lips into a thin, loose line, raises an eyebrow and runs his tongue across his lips, loosening the pressure in his arms. He looks up at Louis’ face with a demanding expression. “Well, what are you waiting for? Come to _me._ ”  
  
“Fuck,” Louis breathes, his victory escaping his grasp. He releases his hold on Harry and goes back to his spot. “No, you.”  
  
“No,” Harry spits out, pressing a hand to the middle of his chest. With a childish look on his face, he arches his hips forward teasingly, eliciting a whimper from the other boy. He grabs the hands that are holding his wrists and tightens his grip. “You.”  
  
“Don’t be stubborn, Hazza. You know I’ll win. I _always_ win.” Louis looks determined, but it can’t be said the same for his body language, his brow is furrowing and mouth faltering.  
  
“I don’t know about that. Your body tells me different.” Harry smirks, his eyes wandering down to Louis’ waist rubbing against him.  
  
“You’re not in a much better condition, mate,” Louis retorts.  
  
“Mate, huh?” Harry pretends to look annoyed, but he’s more amused than anything, as he wriggles his hands out of Louis’ grasp. “Would a mate do this?” His hands travel down Louis’ back and land on the back of his legs, grabbing his arse, firmly.  
  
Louis ignores the throbbing that causes below the belt line. “What should I call you then?” Louis rolls his eyes. He sarcastically suggests, “Love, nymph, muse. Oh, how I love you, shall I count the ways?”  
  
Harry is determined to continue rousing Louis (he wouldn’t ever pass up the opportunity to rile him up), but he can’t deny the way his breaths grow slightly shaky, an aching warmth in the pit of his stomach. “I wish I could be that creative.” Harry continues squeezing his bum. “I’ll just call you my little slut. How’s that?”  
  
“That’s a new one.” Louis shakes his head and giggles. "Look at the positioning here, Haz.” He lowers his head to see where he’s centimeters from Harry’s ear. He whispers heavily, “You’re mine.”  
  
Harry’s breath hitches, a painful shiver icing through him. In a husky voice he murmurs, “If you’ll have me.”  
  
Louis smirks once more. This was it. This was his victory. He raises his head slightly, and expectantly says, “Then come to me.”  
  
Harry’s expression doesn’t falter a bit; he just stares at Louis as if his continual play of confidence means nothing to him. He trails his hands down to pull the hem of Louis’ shirt, allowing his fingertips to graze over his skin. He hears the brunet’s chest heave as it rises and falls, and continues to look at Louis as if he’s done something wrong. “No.”  
  
“This is ridiculous, Harry!” Louis tries to sound domineering, but his voice comes out soft.  
  
“Are those the words of a loser?”  
  
“Shut up, I remain champion!” Louis will not bow.  
  
“Is that so?” Harry raises an eyebrow, waving some hair out of his face. “It appears as though somebody is in need of a dictionary for their next birthday.”  
  
“I haven’t given in yet,” Louis challenges, although he can feel his guard slipping as he lowers himself more.  
  
“Yet,” Harry repeats, nodding. He loosens his hips, slowly moving his legs open and allowing Louis to lean into him.  
  
“That counts as a point against you!” Louis chastises, choking on his words. There were no rules to this game, but points seemed relevant.  
  
“In that case, I’ll lose every point.” Harry adjusts himself on the couch, which gives Louis the perfect leverage to drop himself over Harry completely, their limbs tangling together. “But don’t think I’ll lose entirely.”  
  
“But if you’re losing points, doesn’t that mean you’re losing the game?” Louis asks with a grunt, keeping a safe distance from Harry.  
  
“That’s not how this game works,” Harry suggests coyly. He’s in such a vulnerable position, how does he have the upperhand?  
  
“Oh? Why don’t you show me, then?” Louis challenges, pressing his thigh against Harry’s crotch.  
  
Harry squirms underneath, and he thinks he can feel his cock straining through his trousers, desperate for any kind of touch. He extends his arm to wrap over Louis’ neck, forcing his face to drop into the nape of his neck. He lifts his face, takes note of the very-much dilated pupils, and eyes the boy’s lips, licking his own with much desire. He inches in for a second, thinking he’s just about ready to give up, because, well, their proximity is overwhelming and Louis is _right there_ and how can Harry possibly say no now? Somehow, though, he manages to force his sinful thoughts away and forget about the smaller body atop of him, and he smirks instead.  
  
“My, my.” Harry bites down on his lip, grinning wickedly. “You’re not trying to trick me, are you?”  
  
“Come to me,” Louis suggests.  
  
“I’m here.” Harry laughs.  
  
“No, come closer.”  
  
“So demanding.” Harry sighs. He looks to the side, teasing Louis with a full shot of his neck.  
  
Louis take one hand away from Harry’s wrist and gently strokes down Harry’s neck, eliciting a shiver from him.  
  
“Fuck!” Louis shouts in surprise as his head rolls back, and he’s sent tumbling to the floor. Releasing Harry’s wrists may very well have been his downfall.  
  
“Tsk, tsk,” Harry chastises. “Should’ve known better, boo.”  
  
Louis looks up expectantly at Harry who now has the front of his shirt balled in his fist. His nerves unraveling, Louis makes his way back to the boy, perching himself on the edge of the bed, close enough to reach Harry and take his shirt off, except the second he _tries,_ he’s pushed on his back into the mattress, hitting the bed frame, pain throbbing at the back of his head.  
  
“Shit,” Louis musters, trying to pull himself to sit back up, but Harry’s hand shoves him back down.  
  
“You’re not going anywhere... You’re so fucking small,” Harry breathes, huddling over him.  
  
Louis simply nods, swallowing hard as he stares up at Harry.  
  
“Don’t look at me.”  
  
“I – ”  
  
“Shut up,” Harry spits out, scowling at Louis’ eyelids. Louis nods again and looks away.  
  
There is a small sound from Louis that was muffled from the harsh impact of Harry’s lips to his. Louis thinks he can taste a faint hint of blood from his upper lip, but he hardly has the time to think when Harry’s body comes crashing over his, hurling him into the bed frame, causing him to gasp in the utmost surprise. He tries to move to ease away the agony on his lower back, but Harry grabs his hands before he can.  
  
“Do I need to tie you up?”  
  
“I – ” His voice came out soft, shocked at Harry’s offer.  
  
“Shut up,” Harry repeats, harsher this time. He looks around warily, unsure of what he can use to bind Louis. His face lights up as an idea strikes him, and he looks back at Louis with a menacing expression. Louis is somewhat worried at Harry’s sudden behaviour, but his body hasn’t a care in the world, his cock trembling under his too-tight clothes.  
  
Without warning, Louis is hammered to the frame yet again, this time Harry’s hands raking through his shirt, clutching balls of fabric, and ripping it off of him so quickly that the sharp ripping sound causes Louis’ breath to stir, again alarmed at Harry’s eagerness. Louis wants to protest that he had just ripped his favorite shirt, but he supposes now wouldn’t be the best time for that.  
  
“Jesus,” Louis gasps.  
  
Harry grips his shoulder hard, hard enough that it’s starting to hurt. “Not my name.”  
  
“Harry,” he corrects himself, nodding reassuringly. Although, at this point, it was hard to tell the difference.  
  
“Turn around,” Harry demands, but doesn’t leave Louis a second to follow his order, his impatience taking its toll and having him yanking onto the boy’s arm and knocking him face down into the mattress. His hands spread above him, and he hardly has the time to prepare himself as the appendages are ripped away from his sides with Harry clutching them tightly.  
  
“Even your hands are fucking tiny.”  
  
“Compared to yours.”  
  
Harry doesn’t have anything to say to that, amazingly, but Louis’ eyes are blinded by the sheets and he’s too preoccupied with the sinful thoughts of Harry being all out rough with him that he doesn’t notice the pain on his wrists as Harry forcefully folds his shirt over them, struggling to tie a knot. Finally, Louis feels it, a slight pinching on his arm, surely from Harry’s nails.  
  
He can’t help hissing in pain, and the normal Harry is whipped back into action, stroking the skin softly as an apology. And then reality comes crashing back when he feels Harry’s arm pulling him to sit back up. His face flushes when he realises he can’t move his hands at all and he’s completely vulnerable and he doesn’t understand why that turns him on so fucking much. He _has_ always had a thing for being manhandled, but this was the first time Harry has ever tried anything so rash.  
  
“Look at the positioning now, Lou,” Harry laughs as he presses his mouth against Louis’ ear. He mimicks Louis’ previous voice and says, “you’re mine.”  
  
Harry moves his mouth down and begins to suck hard on Louis’ neck, leaving a sizable mark for the world to see.  
  
“Mine,” Harry repeats, a bit out of breath. “I’m gonna fuck you into next year.”  
  
“Jesus, Haz,” Louis groans as Harry works on another lovebite right next to the first one. He has a feeling someone will definitely ask about this later. The velvety warmth in his neck is intoxicating, especially with the heat of Harry’s face and the curls tickling his chin. He wants to tug on those curls and wrap his hands over the boy’s larger body, but  
he’s restrained and feels useless.  
  
He realises one thing, though. If he wants something, anything, from Harry, he’s going to have to ask for it.  
  
He attempts to move a bit, turning his hips to the side, but Harry doesn’t like that. He wants total control, and it’s evident in the way he grabs onto Louis’ hip. His hand is large against Louis, nearly wrapping around his entire side.  
  
Harry tugs on his waistband, causing Louis to sigh in contentment, but it’s making him all the more frustrated knowing that he can’t do anything to please himself now; he has to rely entirely on Harry.  
  
His next move is anticipated; he struggles to get himself out of his trousers, tossing them to the side, barely hanging over the edge of the bed. Louis expects Harry to take care of him next, but Harry instead presses kisses against his stomach and there’s a warm feeling rising in him as he recalls the memories having to do with his insecurities over his body and how Harry would always kiss his stomach and tell him he’s beautiful no matter what. Despite the differences in the situation, Louis feels the love even now as he’s staring at Harry’s flushed erection while his remains untouched and throbbing painfully.  
  
“I want to try something,” Harry says almost cautiously. “If you’re okay with it?”  
  
Louis, dumbfounded by the fact that Harry’s _asking_ for his opinion instead of jumping into it, reveals his every thought with a frown. “You don’t need to ask.”  
  
And Harry takes that to heart. “Good. I, erm...” He moves forward to plant himself on his knees, his cock sticking straight out. “I want to choke you. With my dick.”  
  
“Oh, God, Harry,” Louis gasps at the images already filling his mind, imagining the way Harry’s head would roll back as he completely loses control of himself. “God. Fuck, yes. Do it.”  
  
“Gonna fuck your mouth so hard,” Harry breathes out, rolling his hand over his cock before perching his legs over Louis’, on his knees and knocking the boy back into the frame. Right at the moment Louis strays his attention to his neglected cock, Harry’s monster member is shoved into his mouth, pumping in and out in rapid thrusts and sliding in deep.  
  
Louis’ mouth is warm around Harry, just like he’s used to. But there’s a new urgency now, and Harry is excited about it. He yanks a bit on Louis’ hair as he shoves himself further in, intoxicated by the way Louis’ eyes rolled a bit at the motion. Louis comes to term with the newfound pain, but even then, he just takes and takes and takes, knowing he’ll do anything to hear those filthy noises Harry loves to make.  
  
“Hold your breath for me, will you?” He doesn’t wait for an answer, moving a hand below Louis’ chin, tilting it up as he pounds Louis back into the pillow, his other hand still yanking his hair.  
  
Harry finds breathing impossible as he feels Louis’ throat constrict around his head, his tongue still moving obligingly. He doesn’t think it’s possible, but he manages to shift his body upwards so that his legs are digging into Louis’ armpits, and he’s balls deep into the boy’s mouth. Louis’ pupils are dark with desire, the tears gathering in his eyes making the dark blue glassy and and wide, his face flushed and scarlet, his cheeks hollow, his lips bright red and caked with saliva, looking as if he’s about to choke to death.  
  
Louis gasps loudly the moment Harry pulls out, wanting to feel for his throat, but his hands are still rendered useless. He tries to cough as an alternative method, but he finds the end of his mouth is in too much pain to even do that. He chokes out with tears in his eyes, “I like that – yeah."  
  
Harry assesses him with gentle eyes before jerking Louis’ head to the right and sinking his teeth into his jawline. Louis let out a strangled yelp at the sudden sting; he very well may have been bleeding. Or was that just saliva dripping down his chin?  
  
Harry’s nails drag down Louis’ chest, red lines raising on the skin they grazed. Louis couldn’t help the tears at the corner of his eyes, but he nods at Harry to continue.  
  
“Flip over,” Harry demands in a grunt. He doesn’t even wait for Louis to respond before he takes matters into his own hands, expectedly. Louis finds his face pushed into the pillow, hardly wanting to move. He moves his hips, wanting desperately to free himself from the confining fabric.  
  
Harry’s mouth travels down Louis’ trembling back, in between his arms that were bound together at the hands. He leaves a trail of bitemarks, ending at his hip just above the line of his pants.  
  
“Harry, please,” Louis desperately says.  
  
“Did I ask you to fucking talk?” Harry snaps sternly.  
  
“No, I’m so – ”  
  
“Shut up,” Harry says brokenly through more biting. He licks at the fresh wound, letting his saliva drip down Louis’ side and onto the sheet. Finally, Harry’s hand plays with the top of Louis’ trousers, not bothering to find the zipper before yanking them down just to reveal his bum and pressing his mouth to the fabric.  
  
Louis hisses at the sort-of-contact, biting down on the pillow his face is smashed in. He’s unsure of Harry’s intentions, but he’s lying on his stomach with his bum out with Harry’s digits tracing along the curve of his body, causing shivers to tingle through him. He lets out a pained sigh at the delicate touches when a hand comes clapping over his cheek with a loud smacking sound, forcing a gasp from Louis.  
  
Louis moves the core of his body, bending even lower into the bed, thrusting into the sheets in desperation for some kind of friction. He feels the bed move as Harry leaves for a moment, but Louis doesn’t dare move from his position, not that he really can anyway. It’s barely a second later that he feels leather rubbing up his back. His belt? Louis tries to move his head so that he can see what Harry is moving up his back, when his head is yanked back and he lets out a small shout.  
  
His mouth is open just long enough for Harry to shove his belt in between his teeth, pulling his head back with it now. Louis briefly compares himself to a horse. He finds it hard to figure out a good place for his tongue, moving it around awkwardly in his now crowded mouth.  
  
No movement, no speech, nothing. Louis is a cripple beneath Harry’s hold, and he never felt more invigorated. Harry tightens the belt all the way to the back of Louis’ head, creating a new hole in the leather so that it was bound fastly.  
  
Louis’ head falls back on the pillow; he is only able to breathe in through his nose now. Harry lowers his head to breathe next to Louis’ ear again before biting the lobe and licking the skin he catches between his teeth. Louis is overwhelmed with the thought of their positioning: Harry making his way back to the elastic of Louis’ briefs, Louis’ hands bound, his mouth full of leather. What would their mothers think?  
  
“Tell me why I should please you.” Harry smirks, treating the situation as if they were two blokes who had met at a club for a quickie.  
  
Louis isn’t able to get a word out, every attempt muffled by the belt in his mouth.  
  
“Sorry, I didn’t hear you.”  
  
There’s another muffled response, and Louis can feel Harry shaking in laughter. Bastard. Louis huffs in defeat, some of the tension in his shoulders lessening as they slump. Louis rolls his eyes, never giving up his throne as queen of sass.  
  
“Guess I’ll just have to trust my instincts,” Harry mumbles into the small of Louis’ back. He licks the skin there, as far up Louis’ spine as he can without moving forward. Louis trembles beneath his tongue, and they’ve barely gotten started.  
  
Harry pulls down Louis’ briefs, revealing his bare arse. Louis gyrates his hips a bit, trying to get Harry to do something to him.  
  
“God, you’re such a twink,” Harry seethes, inches from Louis’ ass. Louis makes a disgruntled kind of noise, not pleased with Harry’s comment. He goes to the gym twice a week, he despises the word “twink.”  
  
Harry chuckles, knowing he’s struck a nerve. He takes a hand to each cheek, spreading them apart and Louis’ displeasure immediately ceases. His hands writhe in the confines of his favorite-probably-ruined shirt as Harry’s tongue works him over. Louis, shell-shocked at the different things they’ve tried today, quickly adjusts to the new sensation. Harry starts off slow, simply letting the flat of his tongue roll over Louis’ entrance and making him squirm with expectation.  
  
Louis’ cock is throbbing, still confined by his jeans. He wants so desperately to tell Harry to pull them off, wants to tell him exactly what he wants to hear, but he’s not in control here. Harry’s in control. Harry and his large, large hands and perfect cock and flushed face, and fuck.  
  
A restrained whimper leaves his mouth and he wants to make the loudest noises as Harry’s tongue wavers over and around his opening, its tip pressing inside and causing Louis’ hips to jerk into the mattress, still not giving him the friction he’s been waiting patiently for.  
  
Harry presses his tongue in further; he loves the taste of everything Louis. His hands travel down Louis’ thighs, grazing over the fabric of his jeans.  
  
“Fuck,” he says after moving away from Louis. He yanks at Louis’ jeans, finally freeing all of Louis. A strangled but contented sigh tries and fails to escape Louis’ mouth. “You’re so hard.”  
  
Louis wants to shout “duh,” but his efforts are futile.  
  
“Do you want me to suck you off?”  
  
Louis squirms at the words, his bound hands flailing in an attempt of communication. _Yes_ , he wants that, he’s never wanted anything more than that in his entire life. Not even that double chocolate ice cream that they had in their freezer.    
  
“I’ll take that as a yes,” Harry says. “But...”  
  
“Ughfgh,” Louis attempts. He huffs again, growing frustrated.  
  
“But you have to earn it.”  
  
Harry rests back on his knees and taps his chin, trying to think of a suitable act for Louis to perform.  
  
“Do it yourself,” he finally says.  
  
“Ungh?” Louis’ eyes widen as his brows raise against the pillow. Harry wants him to suck _himself_ off?  
  
“Get yourself off,” he repeats.  
  
Louis lies still for a few more moments, feeling around his body for any type of leverage.  
  
“I’m waiting,” Harry says, feigning disinterest in his voice. He watches Louis intently.  
  
Louis moves his hips, trying to rub himself on the silk sheets on their bed. Harry has gone mad, absolutely mental. But Louis _likes_ it. Perhaps more than he should.  
  
Harry laughs maniacally as he watches Louis move his legs, his hands contorting as he tries to do _anything_ to help himself out. He grows frustrated, sick and tired of Harry treating him like a toy. But in a way, it’s strangely arousing and he doesn't want it to stop.  
  
Harry laughs again, but moves forward. He lifts Louis by the belt that’s in his mouth, pulling his back against his chest. He gently presses a kiss beneath Louis’ ear, assuring him that he's still his usual Harry. Louis’ head turns into the kiss, his lashes fluttering at the lightness of it.  
  
Louis jumps when he feels Harry’s hand around his cock, jerking forcefully. He bites down on the belt and thinks there’s no way Harry will be able to wear it again.  
  
He doesn’t think he’ll last long; he’s impossibly hard and it won’t take much to make him come. He releases a muffled moan as Harry’s fingertips flicker over the tip of his cock, causing him to buck his hips forward unintentionally. He’s just really fucking turned on, and he needs a release.  
  
Harry senses his troubles and mumbles huskily, “Don’t come until I say so.”  
  
Louis makes a sound of consent, but his entire body is trembling. He feels like he is going to break.  
  
“Mm, you’re so pretty,” Harry says into Louis’ ear, smirking at the way that made Louis twitch. “You like my compliments, don’t you? You thrive on them.”  
  
Louis isn’t sure how he’s staying how he is with the way his calves are ready to give out any second. Harry has a strong hold on him, though, so he’s not going anywhere.  
  
“Your hair, your eyes... Do you know nothing of courtesy?” Harry drawls, skimming his nose on Louis’ shoulder as he continues pumping. Louis is ready to explode, and is beginning to see white specks in his eyes. Harry takes his free hand and tilts Louis’ chin back, his whole hand covering his neck.  
  
“Not yet.” Harry presses down on his hand, causing tears to gather in Louis’ eyes. He thinks he might be crying.  
  
Louis is finally able to see Harry, even if at a strange angle, and it’s all so overwhelming. Harry hovers his mouth by Louis’ face, dragging his upper lip down his cheek.  
  
“Wait for it... Wait for it... Not yet.”  
  
Louis lets out a whimper, his stomach full of the warm fuzzies before an orgasm. For a second he’s worried what will happen if he _does_ come.Will Harry punish him? That simple question rouses Louis completely, his body rocking violently, unable to steady himself now.  
  
“Now,” Harry says. Louis doesn’t wait another second before losing all self-control, shooting his load out on the bed, gasping excessively with his eyes clamped shut, totally wrecked. "Oh my, look at the mess you’ve made.”  
  
Normally at this point Louis would kiss him or say something to show how much he’d enjoyed that, but he figures it’s unnecessary, seeing as he’d came from a handjob. He’s impressed and a little startled; for years he’s been training himself to last awhile, or at least until after he's finished having sex, but never has he finished from only a handjob, if you don’t count his and Harry’s first experiences together, of course.  
  
“Were you crying?”  
  
Louis shakes his head, though he himself is concerned about the moisture on his cheeks.  
  
Harry smiles softly. “I made you cry because you couldn’t come. I think that’s a first.”  
  
Louis makes a sound of annoyance, thinking of one thing and one thing only: revenge.  
  
“Want me to fuck you?”  
  
Louis swallows thickly, managing to tilt his head to nod, his mood changing entirely. He wants to say something like, “fuck me until I’m flaccid” but perhaps that’s a little out there, anyway.  
  
“‘M gonna lie you on your back and fuck you, is that okay?” Harry asks, squeezing Louis’ thigh. “Or will you bend over for me?”  
  
Louis lets out a pained whimper, desperately wanting to tell Harry what he wants.  
  
The curly-haired lad laughs. Fucking laughs. He’s just eating this up. Louis will have to get him back later. “Right, that’s what I thought." He presses Louis' shoulder down until he's lying face down on the mattress, his legs snaking around in the duvet and messy sheets. Louis makes a slight whimper at the uncomfortable position, his dick still hard and rubbing against the uneven comforter. Harry presses both hands over his shoulders, stroking them delicately. He leans down but only far enough that he can whisper in his ear.  
  
"I'm gonna fuck you nice and good. I'm gonna go so deep you'll feel raw and sore, and you'll see stars and beg for more," Harry teases, raising emphasis on particular words. "Oh, and you can't make any noises. The belt should help you."  
  
Louis lets out a muffled noise to show he understands. He manages to get his body out of the duvet completely to give Harry access to whatever he desires. Properly opened up and a hundred-and-ten-percent ready to experience Harry's dirty promises, he props himself as far as he can with his hand still in restraints, and feels hands cover his arse, causing his breathing to stir and his body shift. He feels the cold sensation caused by lube Harry places, but it warms up quickly.  
  
"Don't move," Harry demands, inserting his tip, immediate pain slicing through him and causing him to hiss in pain. He feels the smoothness of the condom he supposes Harry had out on moments before. He's used to it, though, and soon his whimpers of agony transform into cries of pleasure and want and _more more more._  
  
"Shh," the older boy silences him, padding his thumbs over the back of Louis' thighs, further pressing himself inside. "God, so fucking tight. Gonna fuck this tight space with my cock, you'd like that, wouldn't you?"  
  
His breaths shagged and constricted by the belt, he remembers he's not allowed to talk and bites down hard on the belt, his moans muffled exclusively now.  
  
Louis feels as though he’s being ripped open with each thrust, and it’s all the more frustrating that he can’t move or talk. Right about now he would be screaming out curses and shouting out moans, but instead he’s bound and grunting softly into the leather that is in his mouth. Harry hardly ever tops, but Louis can’t deny that knows what he’s doing.  
  
Louis can feel the loss of circulation in his wrists from the tightness of the shirt he’s bound in. He wiggles his fingers just to be sure he can still feel them.  
  
“Ready to come again?” Harry asks, knowing the answer is no. Louis doesn’t say anything, but there is panic in his lower abdomen and the answer is evident. “You’re already hard again.”  
  
Harry reaches around and grabs tightly onto Louis’ cock, performing the same jerking gestures as before. Louis can feel saliva dripping onto the pillow around his mouth from biting so hard on the belt. Harry seems to be everywhere at once, hitting his prostate with each thrust and jerking his shaft with intensity.  
  
“Remember, no sounds,” Harry says, entirely aware of Louis’ complicated situation. He grins wickedly with his every move, satisfied that he’s able to hold so much control over Louis. It’s rare and most of the time he prefers having Louis dominating him, but it’s nice to reverse roles for a change, and he’s positive Louis feels the same way.  
  
There’s a tightness in his chest as he restricts his airflow, trying his hardest to not make a peep. It only takes a few more seconds, and he’s coming all over the sheets again.  
  
Harry roughly pushes Louis on his side, staring down at the state of him.  
  
“That’s number two.”  
  
Louis breathes with exasperation, once again struggling to catch his breath and return to reality. Sex with Harry has always been interesting, but it had never felt anywhere near as powerful and mind-blowing as today. Or at least Louis’ post-orgasm thoughts are convincing him of that.  
  
“Ready for round three?”  
  
The boy’s eyes bulge wide in bewilderment, and if his mouth was accessible, his jaw would have dropped. Harry moves Louis around again, pressing his back against the headboard and spreading his legs apart. Harry looks him over from head to cock, reveling in the fact that it was all his.  
  
Harry reaches behind him, and Louis frowns, unsure of his intentions back there. It’s an odd position if they’re going to fuck, but Louis knows that certainly isn’t it as Harry’s hands find the rolled-up shirt and untie it completely. Louis sighs in relief, bringing his hands to his front and rubbing his wrists, red and raw and wrinkly; that was definitely going to leave a mark. Just as he’s enjoying the newfound freedom, his hands are snatched away from him and held above his head, causing his chest to stick out and a grunt to pass his lips.  
  
Harry smirks. “You think I’d let you go that easily?” He shakes his head, raising the shirt from the mattress and up to Louis’ arms. “It’s like you don’t know me at all.”  
  
He takes note of how Louis manages to look completely wrecked and exhausted yet ready for more at the same time. His cock throbs at the thought of having Louis bouncing above him, and he’s reminded that he hasn’t even come yet. With that realisation, he hurries to tie one end of the shirt around the wood of the frame, and as he makes the knot, he notices a line of scratches and bruises designating along Louis’ back. Harry might have to apologise for that later.  
  
He ties the other end around Louis’ wrists, hearing Louis grunt in pain and annoyance that he isn’t freed quite yet. Harry smirks once more as he moves back to face Louis, what he's seeing similar to what one would experience witnessing the resurrection of Jesus. His boyfriend is genuinely perfect with his arms raised above his head, his legs lying out in front of him, his chest heaving as he struggles to breathe. Harry sees a bright light illuminating his figure and starts to wonder if he’s always been this inhumanly beautiful. His hair is messy and thrown everywhere, his face scarlet and flushed, his cheeks looking as if he’d been wearing too much blush. The thought alone brings a mischievous smile to Harry’s lips, another idea popping to mind.  
  
Excitement rushing through him, he leaves the room and returns with the mysterious object in hand, grinning cheekily. He leaves it on the nightstand and sits back on the bed, seeing Louis laying in the same vulnerable position, his dark blue orbs staring him down as he moves closer.  
  
Harry presses a kiss to his cheek. "Open your legs for me," he murmurs between his trail of kisses down Louis' jaw line, extending to his nipples, making tantalising licks over the silky skin, poking the tip of his tongue against him and feeling Louis' body shift back with the sound of his heart hammering in his chest. Harry kisses every bit of him the way down to his waistline, finally coming to stop and falling back to his knees to see that Louis has failed to obey him.  
  
"You're gonna have to listen to me, babe," Harry says softly, pressing both hands against the boy's trembling thighs, an extraordinary set of veins appearing through the skin on his hands. "Or things are gonna get ugly." With adrenaline coursing through him and knowing exactly what he wants to do and how he should execute his next move, he spreads Louis' legs far apart, shoving his body against them so that the boy's knees are dangling over the inside of his elbows, the action so swift and unexpected that it causes a loud gasp to surpass Louis. Harry slides it quickly, the space not quite as impossibly compact as before.  
  
"Want to suck, want you to suck my finger. Can you do that?" He mumbles between puffs of air, glancing back at Louis to see him nodding with enthusiasm. Harry pulls out, quickly removing the belt away from Louis' mouth, causing Louis to sigh in relief and touch his mouth and lick his lips as if to make sure they were still there.  
  
"Fuck," Louis breathes, sounding a little surprised from hearing his own voice.  
  
"I didn't say you could speak, slut," Harry snaps right as he shoves himself in completely, a loud smacking sound growing repetitive as he thrusts himself in and out; Louis has never seen this side to Harry before (of course he's seen similar episodes, like the times Harry was possessive over him after interviews or when they'd have angry sex, but it had never been anything remotely close to this); he's never been touched this way before, never fucked so fully and well.  
  
Sweat beads on his forehead and gathers over his stomach, pants leaving his mouth, for once Louis able to express himself vocally. Except he can't speak. He isn't allowed. Once Harry says no, there's no sense in arguing.  
  
Harry shifts forward, hugging Louis' legs in the folds of his arm until they extend and land on his shoulder, Harry's large hands reaching for Louis' face, landing on his collarbones and gripping his shoulders hard.  
  
"Yes, choke me. Fucking choke me," Louis begs, his wishes fulfilled as the curly-haired boy's hands trace his Adam's apple, wrapping around his neck and holding him down. "Fuck, fuck – yes," he mutters, interrupted by a series of gags and whimpers. He sets his hands over the larger ones and pulls them further on his neck so tight and rough that he's positive there will be marks.  
  
"Fuck, so good, Lou, feels so fucking great," Harry moans out, his voice low and raspy in synchronisation with Louis' shouts and grunts. Moving his hands away from his neck, he uses one to land over Louis' face, slipping into his mouth. Louis sucks on his finger, the warmth of his tongue and saliva resulting in a strange sense of pleasure for Harry.  
  
He thrusts a few more times before letting out, breathing sharply as he leans ahead to grab onto Louis' hands.  
  
"Harry, fucking shit." Louis is breathless as he watches Harry move above him, his glistening cock rubbing against his stomach, as he reaches for his hands, releasing them without a second thought and letting Louis' have some time to revel in the current state of his digits.  
  
“Get up,” Harry commands him as Louis musters the strength. He has some trouble pulling himself up from the front of the bed, but Harry smiles and helps him.  
  
“Fuck,” Louis seethes as Harry tugs on his hair. It’s still sore on the corners of his mouth where the belt had dug in.  
  
Harry seems to have grown tired of barking out orders, now he’s just pushing him around, and Louis ends up near the end of the bed, his head almost handing off. It almost hurts Louis to try and look up at Harry. He feels Harry’s weight straddle him, and his hands begin to stroke down his heaving and sweaty chest.  
  
Harry chuckles as his hand reaches behind him and strokes Louis’ miraculously still stiff cock. Louis winces at the touch, it’s all becoming a bit much and his legs tremble and jerk with each tug. Louis feels Harry shift, and then feels a condom slip on over him and his head is racing. How is he supposed to last any longer? He can almost feel tears stinging in his eyes.  
  
“You’re a mess,” Harry describes. “Looks like I’ll have to lube myself.”  
  
A choked noise escapes Louis’ mouth when Harry finally lifts himself. Just as he’s getting into it, Louis’ hands land on Harry’s thighs, gesturing him to move off.  
  
“You brought something back with you...” he mutters, rolling to the side of the bed. His eyes roam to the nightstand, seeing tube of bloody red lipstick.  
  
“Oh,” Harry says. “I was going to put it on you when you were tied up, but I forgot.”  
  
“You put it on,” Louis says with a wicked grin.  
  
“What? No!” Harry doesn’t move.  
  
“Please? It’s the least you could do. I could call Lou and she could put it on you correctly.”  
  
“Shut up,” Harry mumbles. He snatches the tube away from Louis, dropping it back on the nightstand with annoyance.  
  
“Harry,” Louis starts to beg, his heart sinking fast from Harry refusing to listen. “Please?”  
  
Harry shoots him a look of aggravation, as if he’s about to give in but doesn’t want to give Louis the satisfaction of winning. He _has_ had the upper hand throughout the entirety of today’s events. He couldn’t drop it now.  
  
“Harry, _please._ You’ll look so hot. So fucking sexy. Nobody has to know about this. It’s between me and you.”  
  
Harry sighs, staring back at the tube. “I don’t think – ”  
  
“What angle are you playing at? I’ve listened to you all day, you could at least have the decency to return the favour,” Louis points out, plenty aware of the guilty feeling rushing over the other boy. He sets a hand over Harry’s thigh, stroking it softly. “You don’t have to do it, but I’d really like it if you did.”  
  
Harry can’t explain the feeling this gives him; guilt is hardly an acceptable term at this point.  
  
“Dammit,” he sighs out. He grabs the tube in frustration, opens it, and twists the bottom. He stares at the red, anxiety forming in his stomach. He sighs again, then quotes one of his tattoos, “might as well.”  
  
He smears the makeup on his lips, not even bothering to look at a mirror for accuracy. He was going to look ridiculous no matter what, why does it matter?  
  
“Christ, you’re beautiful...”  
  
“I look stupid.”  
  
Louis rolls his eyes. “And I like girls. Now ride me.”  
  
Harry doesn’t need any more instruction. He slides down slowly on Louis’ cock, getting a feel. He stays like that for a moment, Louis watching him intently. His head was getting tired from straining to stay up, so he lets it fall back over the edge of the bed.  
  
Louis already feels a tense feeling in his stomach, and he chokes back a pained sob as he suppresses the feeling.  
  
Harry expertly works his way on top of him, grunting through red lips. He gracefully moves his body up and down while Louis groans, his head remaining at the edge of the bed. His eyes are closed for only a few seconds, just enough for him to adjust to the new tight space, loving the feeling of being inside Harry.  
  
Sitting up, he leans backwards, his elbows pressing into the mattress, as he observes Harry’s hands pumping around his cock, which immediately sets him off.  
  
“No, no,” he snaps, grabbing the larger hands and shoving them aside. “I’m gonna make you feel good. We will have none of that.”  
  
Harry nods and gulps, the overwhelming emotion stirring in his expression made absolutely alluring with the glossy red covering his lips. Louis decides he’s going to make Harry do this again someday, except next time those dark lips will wrap around his cock instead.  
  
Louis lets out a loud moan at the images already forming in his mind. He thinks he’s going to finish simply at the sinful thought, so he sits up and budges Harry off of him, immediately taking that millisecond to flip them over so he is on top.  
  
“Louis, fuck,” Harry spits out, his breath catching at the sudden change in position.  
  
“Shut up,” Louis says in a low tone, but the smirk on his face shows the sassiness in his intentions.  
  
“I – ”  
  
Louis’ smirk remains, his hands pressing down on Harry’s wrists. “Looks like we’re back where we started.”  
  
“What, I – ” Harry tries to sound annoyed, but the grin on his face is unmistakable. “That’s not fair!”  
  
Louis doesn’t give much warning before pressing into him again, causing all conversation to come to an end, only the sound of whimpers and hitched breaths filling the room.  
  
Harry can’t do much about his current predicament, Louis is thrusting into him too hard and too fast. And he likes it. He doesn’t even care about control or his God complex anymore, he just wants _Louis_. He kisses him, leaving lipstick smeared around his mouth and on his cheek. His mouth goes down as far as it can in the current position he’s in, trailing the dark red makeup on his neck.  
  
Louis fucks him senseless, every nerve ending screaming with pleasure and _Louis_. Louis climaxes while staring into Harry’s eyes, his toes curling and his face a beautiful portrait of serenity.  
  
“I love you,” Harry says, a bit breathless. There’s sweat on his face, and the lipstick is faded and smeared.  
  
Louis lets his forehead drop so that it’s touching Harry’s. He takes a hand and strokes his hair.  
  
“I love you, too.”  
  
They both sit up and enjoy their lingering kisses for a few more minutes. When they separate, they’re struggling to breathe, and Louis has a smirk on the edge of his lips.  
  
“What?” Harry asks on it.  
  
“Looks like I won,” he states simply. He points out, “you came to me first.”  
  
“You came on me first,” he points out.  
  
“That’s different.”  
  
“Oh, fuck off.” Harry sighs. He drops on his back, wiping the rest of his lipstick with the back of his hand. Turning to face Louis, he grins wildly. “I think we both won.”


End file.
